


Death by Paradise

by Livelongandfangirling



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Formula E RPF
Genre: (although not much murder despite what the title suggests), Alternate Universe - Detectives, Death in Paradise AU, Gen, Mentions of crime, the tiniest pinch of slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-08-14 10:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20190715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livelongandfangirling/pseuds/Livelongandfangirling
Summary: Jean-Eric Vergne has everything he wants, a beautiful apartment in his home city of Paris, where he serves in the police solving crimes and serving the people of his city. He has high ambitions of one day leading the French Police Force… Until he gets reassigned to the small Caribbean Island of Saint Marie.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I think my fic mojo has finally returned from war! I had the idea for this story way back in January and finally finished up the prologue last night. Death In Paradise is one of my favourite TV shows and being me I just had to stick some drivers in and make an AU fic out of it. I've never written anything in the crime genre before and I can't say much for my detective skills but I have finally come up with a plot that I'm happy with, so I am beyond happy to be finally posting this.  
I just want to give a big shoutout to the amazing CustardCreamies who is the Queen of the F1 Death In Paradise AU on here and was so kind enough to give me the go-ahead with this (no plagiarism is intended on my part, we just both love the same show!)  
I can't promise fully regular updates but I will 100% try my best since I'm finally getting back into writing and posting after so long. I'll be updating the tags as I go along.  
And the usual disclaimer, this is 100% a work of fiction!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some changes in life are welcome... and some most definitely are not

Jean-Eric sighed as he exited the taxi and softly closed the door behind him, clenching his briefcase tightly in his other hand. While the driver happily offered to get his suitcases from the boot, Jean-Eric sighed as he took in his final few glimpses of Paris. His beloved home city that he was leaving by circumstance, definitely not by choice.

Ever since he was a child, Jean-Eric wanted nothing more than to become a police officer, to help those in need, to rid the streets of crime… and whatever else he had done in his seven years as a Lieutenant in the National Police Force. Jean-Eric sighed again, looking at the darkening sky.

“You arrived just at the right time, looks like a storm coming” The taxi driver said to him has he hauled Jean-Eric’s luggage out of the taxi boot and onto the pavement with an exhausted smile. Normally Jean-Eric would complain about a thunderstorm, but now he was silently hoping that it would indefinitely delay his flight.

He paid the taxi driver, tipped him for retrieving his bags, and watched him drive away right as three heavy drops of rain fell onto Jean-Eric’s head. He looked up and a few more smaller droplets fell into his eyes as he heard a distant rumble of thunder somewhere over the city. Jean-Eric scowled as he popped up the collar of his coat, hauled the large bag over his shoulder and gripped the handles of his enormous suitcase and briefcase before turning on his heels and walking slowly into the airport terminal.

As expected, Terminal 2 of Charles de Gaulle was bustling with people. It was early March and the beginning of the proper tourist season, so Jean-Eric had to push his way past a few groups of tourists before he found a free luggage trolley to dump his bags on. Still scowling, Jean-Eric brushed the wrinkles out of his white shirt and navy trousers before pushing the collar of his grey overcoat back down, and moved himself and his luggage trolley in the direction of the large departure screens in the middle of the terminal.

It was then that he heard a loud crack in the sky, followed by a bright white streak of light as the heavens opened and it started to pour with rain, of course Jean-Eric’s final day in Paris would be wet and miserable.

As passengers started to groan and complain around him, Jean-Eric reached into his coat and pulled out his passport before scanning his flight details on the neatly folded piece of paper. First he was on a one hour and twenty minute flight to London, before a four hour layover to wait for his eleven hour flight to Saint Marie, the tiny little island where Jean-Eric had so suddenly been re-assigned to.

He didn’t know much about the island, other than that his sister almost begged him to take her with him, apparently Saint Marie was a haven for tourists. The first thing Jean-Eric had done when he’d been given the very unwelcome news from his superior was find out everything he could about the island. What he had discovered in one whole hour was that it was small, had a population of just ten thousand with a town for a capital city, more spas, hotels and holiday homes than necessary, and most upsettingly was a British Overseas Territory. So why they needed an officer from the French Police was a complete mystery to Jean-Eric, and one he really didn’t want to solve.

After ten minutes of glaring at the departure board, the flight to London finally read ‘Check-In Open’ in large green letters. Jean-Eric made his way over to the business class queue and waited. He tried his best to not take his frustration out on the Air France employee at the Check-In desk, even when they reminded him that he was well over the normal luggage allowance (something that he paid through the nose for).

Now free of his heavy bags, Jean-Eric gripped his briefcase even tighter as his palms began to sweat when he looked at the details on his ticket. He was already one step closer to the Caribbean and he hadn’t even left France yet.

Annoyingly, by the time Jean-Eric had passed through security, the thunderstorm had left as quickly as it had arrived. The rain had stopped too, and while the sky was still grey and overcast it was far lighter than the near-black it had been just half an hour ago.

Jean-Eric took his time in the departure lounge, he went to a Bureau de Change to exchange any Euros he had left in his wallet for Eastern Caribbean Dollars, and wandered around Duty Free to see if he forgot to pack anything. Luckily for him, and his wallet, he had everything he needed, so he strolled over to one of the branded cafés for one last proper cup of coffee.

He took a seat that was tucked away in a reasonably quiet corner, where he could wait for his flight to be called in peace. Jean-Eric stared at his coffee (and the pastry he’d bought as a small treat) and let out a long sigh before pulling his phone out of his pocket, and called home.

He heard two rings, before his sister excitedly answered.

“Have you arrived yet?”

“No… I haven’t even left the country” Lea let out a long disappointed sigh at her older brother.

“Well you have to call me as soon as you land! Oh and I want pictures of your new place. Maman said that I can come and visit in a couple of months if you’re not too busy” Jean-Eric had to stop himself from responding too quickly so he could swallow the lump in his throat.

“I’ll miss you” Jean-Eric replied quietly before taking a large sip of his coffee. “I’ll have a room ready for you as soon as I land”

“You better! I’m not sleeping on your sofa again” He could almost hear Lea putting a hand on her hip in disgust. Jean-Eric just chuckled to himself as he took a small bite out of his pastry.

“Just don’t ruin my apartment while I’m away”

“Oh you mean my apartment?” Lea sounded far too pleased with herself, probably as she slumped herself down on the suede armchair that was sat by the window that looked out into the street. For once Jean-Eric didn’t whip back a comeback or retort of any kind, it was then speaking to his little sister that he finally realised that he was leaving far more then just his home country. “I’ll miss you too, idiot” Lea said softly after a small pause. Jean-Eric found himself forcing a small smile as he said goodbye and hung up before slowly putting his phone back in his pocket.

He really regretted not kicking up more of a fuss about his non-negotiable transfer.

“Sir?” A strange soft voice wafted into his dream, he was lying on a white sandy beach under the warm sun, yet the sand was now slowly trying to bury him. “Sir can you hear me?” The same soft voice again, although it sounded firmer and a tad louder, sand now covered his feet and was halfway up his legs. Quicker and quicker warm white sand buried him, until an invisible force gently shook his shoulder and Jean-Eric woke himself up with a snore. He wasn’t being buried alive by sand, he was still firmly in his business class seat, a flight attendant looking down at him slightly relieved. “The plane will be landing in twenty minutes, you’ll need to move your seat into the upright position and fasten your seat belt” And with a warm, professional smile, the flight attendant left to wake up another passenger.

Jean-Eric groggily blinked his eyes a few times until he felt awake enough to move. He looked around where he was sitting, his dream still fresh in his mind as he caught a glimpse of the view outside his window; an endless turquoise ocean. He let out a long quiet sigh, and sure enough another flight attendant made the announcement over the PA system that they were twenty minutes away from Saint Marie.

It took only a few minutes for Jean-Eric to put his shoes back on (he’d completely forgotten that he’d taken them off) and put everything he’d taken out of his briefcase back in it (a book gifted from one of his former colleagues that he’d abandoned twenty pages in, a pen and newspaper with an unfinished crossword) and moved his seat back into the upright position, with his seatbelt firmly fastened across his hips.

The plane landed gently on the tarmac, and slowly taxied to its spot by the terminal building and game to a stop with the smallest of jolts. While all the passengers sprang to their feet to retrieve their bags from the overhead lockers, Jean-Eric stayed sat in his seat, his eyes glued to the view outside his window. Gone was the grey sky, the tall buildings and the Eiffel Tower, in its place were palm trees, a blue sky brighter than Jean-Eric had ever seen, and he could even see heat haze wafting a few centimetres off the ground. When the realisation hit him that he wasn’t dreaming and really was in the Caribbean at long last, Jean-Eric unfastened his seatbelt and jumped up so fast that he hit his head on the overhead panel above him, the sharp pain making him curse loudly in French. Thankfully the cabin was almost deserted by that point so no one saw the hint of red in Jean-Eric’s cheeks.

He pulled his briefcase out from where he had stowed it below his seat, patted his jacket to make sure that his passport, visa and the rest of his paperwork was still in his chest pocket and with a small nod and a final glance at his seat, Jean-Eric strode off the plane, thanking the flight attendants that stood smiling at the door.

The warm and slightly humid air seemed to hit Jean-Eric like a brick to the face as he set foot on the steel steps that lead down to the tarmac. He could see the small pocket of Saint Marie much better from his seat on the plane, if Jean-Eric hadn’t been so groggy from sleep, jetlagged or concerned about how long he would have to wait in the passport control queue, he would have found the sight of the blue sky blending into the turquoise sea framed with tall palm trees quite beautiful. Someone loudly cleared their throat loudly into Jean-Eric’s ear and he snapped back into reality, apologised and slowly walked down the steel steps, across the tarmac and through the automatic glass doors into the airport terminal.

It was just like any other airport, air conditioned with blue overhead signposts directing Jean-Eric to glass booths filled with pale shirted immigration officers, welcoming everyone whose passport they stamped to Saint Marie with a smile. Jean-Eric joined a small queue and waited a few minutes before it was his turn, and he quietly handed over his passport and immigration papers when asked.

“Ahhh you’re the new inspector!” The officer smiled and he looked through Jean-Eric’s papers. “Don’t look so surprised, it says so right here!” He pointed somewhere on one of the sheets of paper before shuffling them again. “It appears that everything is in order Mr Vergne” The officer took Jean-Eric’s passport and stamped inside it three times before and handing everything back to him with a beaming grin. “And let me be the first to welcome you to Saint Marie” Jean-Eric only just managed to force out a polite thank you as he walked through and followed the signs for baggage reclaim.

He could feel a warm, thin sheen of sweat on his hairline, and he didn’t notice his knuckles were white from gripping his briefcase too tightly until he placed it onto a rickety baggage trolley. He found a spot to stand next to the luggage carousel and waited, gently massaging his knuckles with this thumb. He still felt warm despite the cool air being circulated by the air conditioning system, and his throat was unbearably dry.

It took just over thirty minutes of waiting before the carousel whirred into life and another fifteen minutes before Jean-Eric was finally reunited with the rest of his luggage. He double and triple checked that he hadn’t forgotten a bag or had dropped his passport and phone, and when he was really, really sure, Jean-Eric gave the luggage trolley a firm push and he walked straight through customs, and into the arrivals hall.

It was much smaller than Charles de Gaulle, but was still filled with milling tourists and locals greeting friends and loved ones off flights or muttering in panic that they’d left something at home. Stood almost slap bang in the middle of the hall was a man in a sand coloured police uniform, with various medal badges pinned to the front of his buttoned up jacket, and a matching hat with gold piping around the rim. Jean-Eric recognised the man instantly and walked straight towards him, his knuckles unknowingly turning white again.

“Detective Inspector Vergne” He spoke in a soft local accent and greeted Jean-Eric with a small smile. It took Jean-Eric a few seconds to respond, remembering that he wasn’t a French Lieutenant anymore, but a British DI.

“Commissioner Best” Jean-Eric shook hands with the Commissioner and nodded, glancing around the terminal.

“You’ll get used to it soon enough, if you’ll follow me we have a car waiting to take you to the station” Commissioner Best turned on his heels and walked a few paces ahead. When the glass doors slid open Jean-Eric was yet again blasted in the face with hot air that made him feel like he was on the inside of a pressure cooker. And to think it was only Springtime.

Jean-Eric huffed as he pushed his luggage filled trolley down the slightly uneven ramp towards the black car that was waiting at the bottom of the adjacent steps. The sheen of sweat had quickly returned to his hairline and had even spread to the skin pressed against the collar of his shirt before Jean-Eric had even put his first bag in the boot of the car. “I’m afraid I cannot take your bags straight to your accommodation, this car is strictly for my own personal use” Commissioner Best spoke with a small frown as the car finally pulled away from the airport. “But one of the officers has already agreed to drive you and your things there, I hope that’s alright with you”

“Yes, yes that’s… fine” Jean-Eric’s voice trailed off as he gazed out the window, taking in the sights of his new home. Lush sandy beaches, a small army of hotels and spas, brightly painted houses and beach huts, markets filled with stalls selling almost anything at a glance and high hills filled with rainforest. Maybe Saint Marie really was as beautiful as everyone said it was.

“…but it’s part in parcel with the Islands… eventful history from changing hands so many times, but despite his appearance he his a wonderful officer, I’m sure the two of you will get along just fine” Jean-Eric was so pre-occupied with the view that he hadn’t heard the majority of Commissioner Best’s brief telling of the history of Saint-Marie. Jean-Eric just nodded as the Commissioner got out the car that had apparently stopped outside a small, unassuming looking beige building with a terracotta tiled roof. There was a single set of steps that led up to the building that was surrounded by potted plants, and a small terrace framed with cobalt blue wooden columns and railings. It wasn’t until he saw the blue and white painted sign next to a set of white and yellow shutters that Jean-Eric realised where they were.

As Jean-Eric finally got out of the car (his luggage was already being carried up the concrete steps by the driver) he remembered just why he was in the Caribbean, and his resentment about the situation very quickly returned. The paint of the handrail needed touching up, the plants needed watered, and there wasn’t even a doormat on either side of the wide-open doors that lead into Honoré Police Station. For a split-second Jean-Eric head the sound of bright cheerful laughter, but that instantly stopped the second he appeared with the Commissioner.

The inside of the station was almost exactly what Jean-Eric had expected. Old desks sat on slightly faded rugs on a wooden floor, each one graced with computers that were at least ten years old. The walls were painted the same shade of faded egg yolk yellow that accented the window shutters, and on the ceiling a dark wooden fan slowly spun lukewarm air around the room. Scattered around what appeared to be the main office area were tall filing cabinets, framed pictures and clippings hung on the walls, and even more potted plants managed to find a spot indoors. He could just about see two holding cells that appeared to be ripped out of an old western movie set though an arch in the wall at the very back of the room.

Stood by one of the desks were three people, two of them wearing what had to be the Saint-Marie police uniform; light blue short sleeved shirts with decorative cream rope wrapped round the underarm of the right sleeve and a circular badge in the colours of the French flag with an outline of a bird in flight hanging from the front chest pocket. The officers both wore black trousers and hats identical to the one Commissioner Best was wearing, and they stood tall with their hands clasped behind their backs. The third, was not wearing a uniform. Instead he wore denim shorts cropped at the knee paired with a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt patterned with white flowers and black silhouettes of palm trees, and had his hands in his pockets.

“DI Vergne these are your colleagues, Officer Angelique Fortune,” The first officer, a woman in her mid-20s with dark curly hair who was much shorter than Jean-Eric, stepped forward and shook her new superior’s hand. “Officer Christopher Meyers,” a man, slightly older than Angelique, and given how they shared the same skin and eye colour meant they had to be Islanders. Officer Meyers shuffled half a step forward, shook Jean-Eric’s hand and stepped back into line. “and Detective Sergeant Daniel Ricciardo” It was almost painstakingly obvious to Jean-Eric that DS Ricciardo was not a local, or from the Caribbean at all, as the desk all three of Jean-Eric’s new colleagues were leaning against had a small Australian flag sat in a pencil pot by the computer.

“Nice to finally meet you boss” Daniel took one large step forward and with one hand gripped Jean-Eric’s bicep, and slapped his back with the other. The force pushed Jean-Eric right against his new colleague and his nose was filled with the smell of sun cream and pineapples, it was almost enough to make him retch. When Daniel beamed at Jean-Eric as he stepped back into place, Officer Fortune looked mildly horrified while Officer Meyers was failing to suppress a chuckle.

“Unfortunately I have other business to attend to, you can stay if you would like or Officer Fortune can drive you to your accommodation. I will see you tomorrow Inspector” With a small courteous nod, Commissioner Best left the office, trotted down the concrete steps and into the car that glided away back into the hubbub of Honoré.

“I will load your bags into the car Sir, if you’d like to follow me” Officer Fortune seemed to read Jean-Eric mind before he’d even decided that he wanted to be as far away from the police station as possible. He didn’t even look at Meyers or Ricciardo as he followed Angelique out of the office and down the steps where round the corner an old Land Rover was being filled with Jean-Eric’s suitcases by the small officer. She slammed the rear passenger door shut and hopped into the driver’s seat and started the ignition, Jean-Eric huffed as he walked round to the front passenger door and climbed into the car and fastened his seat belt without taking one look at the station before Officer Fortune drove away.

“I’m really sorry about Daniel Sir, he’s a wonderful policeman but I think he forgets that not everyone will accept how boisterous he is” Jean-Eric scoffed under his breath, boisterous really was the word for it “Have you ever been so Saint Marie before sir?” Angelique asked in a much more cautious tone.

“Non” Jean-Eric paused, forgetting that he was supposed to be speaking in English from now on. “No I uh… I’ve never been to the Caribbean. I hadn’t heard of Saint Marie before now” Officer Fortune did little to hide her disappointment.

“Well I’m sure you’ll love it Sir, it’s a small island but I honestly couldn’t think of a nicer place” Right as Angelique spoke she stopped the car by a wooden shack that half sat on the beach, it looked clean enough on the outside but was small, and the only paint on it was peeling off the red front door.

“I thought you were taking me to my accommodation”

“This is your accommodation Sir, all the chiefs have lived here for years now. It’s been cleaned of course ever since DI Hamilton left, it’s as good as new!” Officer Fortune smiled as she hopped out of the driver’s seat. “Your house keys are in that middle compartment by the gear stick” Jean-Eric looked down and lifted open the lid where he had been resting his elbow seconds before. Inside was two sets of identical old bronze keys that each had the same red leather keyring attached, at one time they had something embossed into the leather, but the text had long since faded and even Jean-Eric couldn’t make it out. “One set is for you, the other lives in the station as a spare, in case you lose yours” In the time it had taken Jean-Eric to find the keys to his new house Angelique had retrieved all of his luggage and placed it by the front door without even breaking a sweat. “I’d give you a tour but it’s fairly self-explanatory, oh and before I forget, Daniel and Chris wanted me to invite you out to dinner tonight at my sister’s bar in town, we all wanted to give you a proper island welcome. The reservation is at seven and if you’d like I can pick you up at quarter-to since it’s too far to walk, there’s a copy of the station’s phone number inside if you need to get a hold of anyone. Goodbye Sir” Officer Fortune seemed to rattle out everything she said in just two breaths as she made her way back into the car and drove off with a small friendly wave. Leaving Jean-Eric very much alone by his new house.

“When they said that my accommodation would be sorted for me I thought I would be put in a hotel for two weeks while I found a place of my own, surely there’s enough hotel rooms to spare…” Jean-Eric muttered in French under his breath as he unlocked the front door and hauled all of his bags inside and slammed it shut behind him. He looked around the shack and frowned, stuffing the keys into his trouser pocket. He was currently stood in the living room/kitchen area; it was open plan, with a small two-seater sofa facing an even smaller TV. On the opposite side was a basic kitchen with a fridge, oven and microwave, a small amount of counter space and a breakfast bar complete with stools and a door in the corner led to what Jean-Eric assumed was the bathroom. Jean-Eric climbed a small set of stairs that led to the bedroom area, it had a double bed fitted with a mosquito net with a bedside table wither side, a dresser and a wardrobe sat on one side of the room while a chair and reasonable sized desk sat on the other. Jean-Eric was happy enough with the room (that even led out to a decent sized terrace that faced the sea) until he turned and saw a tree trunk right next to one of the walls, he cautiously approached it and sure enough, he had a tree growing right though his house. Jean-Eric tutted and scoffed, and went back down the stairs and into the kitchen. He was going to force himself to inspect the bathroom when he saw a note taped to the fridge that must have been from his predecessor.

_To the new DI of Saint-Marie, whoever you are, I’m sure you’ll have a bright _

_future ahead of you here in the island, Saint-Marie is a wonderful_

_place with wonderful people who it’s truly a pleasure to serve._

_Good luck, enjoy your new home and welcome to paradise!_

Jean-Eric didn’t even bother to re-read the note before scrunching it up and throwing it into the bin.


	2. The Robbery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day in paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I thought that things would start to pick up in this one but it turned to out be a tad more world building and introducing the rest of the characters. Hope you enjoy it none the less and thanks so much for all the love on the first chapter!

The heat was all Jean-Eric could think about when he left the small café opposite the police station, in fact the heat was almost all that Jean-Eric could think about in the past three months that he’d been on Saint Marie.

“I really don’t understand why you still insist on dressing like that mate” Daniel shook his head and peered at him through his sunglasses before taking a long sip of his pineapple and coconut smoothie.

“I really don’t understand why you drink _that_, it’s much better for you to drink something hot in weather like this” Jean-Eric loosely gestured to Daniel’s drink before taking a small sip of his latte, tapping his index finger against the paper cup. Daniel said nothing in retaliation, and briefly clenched his jaw.

“Is it going to be too much to ask for the rest of the day off when we’ve finished all this paperwork?” In an instant Daniel’s voice had changed, back to the professional tone in which the pair almost always spoke to each other; instead of the jolly, vibrant way Daniel spoke with just about everyone else on the island, Officers Fortune and Meyers included.

Jean-Eric just shrugged, strongly considering the idea, as he and Daniel climbed the concrete steps back up to the station in silence, which was thankfully broken by Angelique quietly shouting at Chris.

“Chris-to-pher Meyers!” She huffed, hitting Chris’ shoulder with her hat on almost every syllable of his name as he lay on the bench by the front door, quietly dozing in the sun.

“Argh… what the hell do you want Angelique?” Chris eventually woke, blinking slowly.

“We are up to our eyeballs in paperwork and you’re sat here napping? You are just as bad as your uncle!” Angelique stormed back into the station and sat back down at her desk with a very loud clatter. Jean-Eric and Daniel just stood watching from the top of the steps.

“I’ve finished all of my paperwork sir, it’s been a long case”

“Well why didn’t you say so!” An exasperated Angelique shouted from inside. Daniel just sighed loudly and joined Officer Fortune indoors.

“Don’t worry about it Chris” Jean-Eric huffed and walked inside the station, finally able to open his eyes normally after squinting them the whole walk back from the café to avoid being blinded by the afternoon sun. He frowned as he looked around at his colleagues, Angelique looked frazzled as she rapidly typed away on her computer, and huffed every few seconds, angrily tapping the back space key as she spelled something wrong; Daniel was far from what Jean-Eric had quickly learned was his happy-go-lucky self, he hadn’t flashed his frankly blinding grin for hours which made Jean-Eric briefly consider sending him to hospital, and Christopher genuinely looked like he could fall asleep standing up as he made his way back to his desk. Chris was right, their last case had been a long one. An almost three week long murder case, the fourth in three months.

“How much does everyone have left to do?” Jean-Eric addressed the room, causing everyone to stare at him like a deer in headlights. “Chris take some of Angelique’s, Daniel finish whatever you’re doing and I’ll do the rest” Jean-Eric strode over to his desk that sat furthest away from the door, placed his paper coffee cup down and went over to Daniel’s desk that was adjacent to his, and picked up the last file in Daniel’s ‘to-do’ pile.

“Cheers boss” Daniel gave Jean-Eric a small smile in thanks and carried on with his work, finally unclenching his jaw. Forty minutes later the last bit of paperwork was done and sent off, with physical copies put in their rightful place in the filing cabinet.

“Well I can’t see any good reason for us to do anything else today” Jean-Eric spoke as he started to tidy up his desk. It was just after three o'clock, and it had been a very quiet day.

“We’re getting the rest of the day off?” Chris asked confused, Jean-Eric looked at to see the rest of his team staring back at him like he’d gone mad. Jean-Eric just nodded and went back to tidying away his notepad and pencils. The station was suddenly filled with chatter as everyone made the usual post-case plans to go to Angelique’s sister’s bar.

“Maybe there’s still hope for you after all boss” Daniel grinned as he picked up the keys to his scooter and tossed them in the air. “You coming then? I’ll even buy the first round” Daniel didn’t sound too hopeful when he looked at his DI and didn’t bother to look surprised when Jean-Eric turned the offer of drinks down. “See you tomorrow then” Daniel left, leaving Jean-Eric to lock-up the station. It was a duty that Jean-Eric happily took over from Officer Meyers, since the rest of the team always seemed to be weighed down by murder cases the most, plus Jean-Eric valued the time alone.

With the last of the wooden shutters firmly closed Jean-Eric put the keys to the station into his briefcase and slowly walked down the concrete steps, pausing briefly as he stepped back onto the pavement. Jean-Eric was convinced that he would never be used to the Caribbean heat, it was mid-June and even though it was mid-afternoon it was still boiling hot in the sun, not once had he seen the temperature dip below twenty degrees in the past few months.

With a small hum Jean-Eric walked towards the bike rack that sat next to the police Land Rover and removed the bike lock, sticking it in the front basket with his briefcase. Jean-Eric put on his helmet, climbed onto the bicycle and rode away from the station and towards his house on the beach. A few locals recognised him as he cycled through the town, smiling at him and wishing him a good afternoon as he rode by. He’d really struggled with adjusting to his new job halfway across the world (and still was, but he refused to admit to it even to himself), but it was the people of the island and the duty he had to them that helped Jean-Eric push through every and every case no matter how tough or drawn out it got.

After ten minutes of cycling Jean-Eric arrived back at the shack, over the past few weeks he’d finally had some work on it done, a new kitchen had been put in, and he’d had the covered porch at the back extended to wrap around both sides of the house, as well as the corrugated tin roof reinforced and painted a deep shade of blue. Jean-Eric huffed as he pushed his bike under the small shelter he’d also had put up and unlocked the front door, putting his briefcase down on the sofa. He sighed, almost finding the heat unbearable, and decided that a distraction would be better than wallowing indoors so he went back outside, not bothering to change from his white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, black trousers and shoes, and picked up the paintbrush and tin of paint he’d left on the porch, and resumed painting the outside wall.

“Morning Celine!” Daniel smiled at one of the waitresses in the café as she passed the station on her way to work. She smiled back and congratulated him on finally catching the murderer the police had been after for weeks before diving into the café. Daniel ruffled his dark curly hair and patted his pockets for his ID and keys to the Land Rover before walking towards the station with his scooter helmet tucked safely underneath his arm. He checked his watch as he climbed the steps and sure enough at five to nine the station was already open, window shutters and all. Daniel let out a soft chuckle and strode into the station, as usual Jean-Eric was sat by at his desk, hidden away in its little alcove, frowning as he looked at the computer. “Morning Jev… I mean Chief” Daniel still managed a smile as he took off his sunglasses and hung them off the collar off his mint green shirt.

“Good morning Daniel” Jean-Eric replied in his usual monotone morning mumble. Dan quietly sat down at his desk, hoping he’d gotten away with his little slip up when the DI briefly looked at him and frowned. “And how many times do I have to tell you that I hate being called Jev”

“Sorry” Daniel bit down on his lip and looked out the front door to see Angelique appearing, finally looking well rested for the first time in days. “Morning Angie”

“Morning!” She chirpily called out to the room. “Please tell me you’re checking the weather chief” Angelique asked with a sigh as she went to start a fresh pot of coffee on the machine in the corner of the room.

“I am” Daniel sighed with relief at Jean-Eric’s reply, if Honoré Police had to be thrown another murder it would be too soon.

Chris arrived at almost exactly nine o’clock, and hadn’t even finished saying good morning when the phone on his desk rang.

“Why does it always ring the second I arrive?!” Chris flopped down into his seat, one hand on the back of his head as he answered the phone. Daniel was silently hoping it was just someone who had lost their cat on the other end of the line. “Honoré Police Officer Meyers speak-” Chris was cut off, and his eyes widened. “It’s alright Sir, calm down say that again slowly” He flipped open his notebook, and took down the man’s address. “Thank you, leave everything as you’ve found it we’re on our way” Chris put down the phone with a loud thud. “There’s been a robbery at one of the villas up in the hills, owned by a Christian and Helena Horner, I have the address here” He ripped out a page and handed it to Daniel who already had the keys to the Land Rover in his hand.

“Chris and Angelique, you can go up in the bike and sidecar, let’s go Daniel” Jean-Eric leapt up from his desk, briefcase in hand as he hurriedly left the station with Daniel in tow. They jumped into the Land Rover and drove away as soon as Jean-Eric and Daniel had fastened their seatbelts, Daniel still did all the driving to crime scenes since Jean-Eric still didn’t know the island well enough. He had a rough idea where he was going as he drove up into the islands hills where the trees got thicker by the kilometre. It took ten minutes for them to arrive at the large villa that was perched almost exactly half-way up one of the islands tallest hills. From where they’d parked Daniel had an almost perfect view of Honoré, and of Chris’ motorbike and sidecar coming into view with Angelique and the crime scene equipment.

The villa itself was quite gorgeous, two floors on a raised foundation that stretched about three times the size of the station building with what looked like a descent amount of garden space in the back. It was all wood painted a pale cream colour with a dark tiled roof, and had a large covered balcony looking out towards the sea on top of a covered porch that appeared to wrap itself round the entire house. Daniel looked around for anything suspicious, and only saw the one car, a black Mercedes, and three bicycles resting against the wooden railings.

“Well then chief” Daniel took off his sunglasses to leave them in the car and gestured towards the front door of the villa as Angelique and Christopher arrived. “After you”

Jean-Eric happily took Daniel’s lead and marched up the steps to the front door of the villa, he knocked firmly on the door three times and waited, his police badge already in his other hand. It was a few moments before Jean-Eric and Daniel could hear hurried footsteps and the clicking of locks before the door was flung open and a middle-aged man faced them with a look of relief on his face.

“I’m Detective Inspector Jean-Eric Vergne, this is my partner Detective Sergeant Daniel Ricciardo. You called about a robbery?” The man, who Jean-Eric assumed to be Mr Horner gave a loud sigh of relief has Daniel and Jean-Eric showed their ID badges.

“Yes, thank goodness you’re here, please come in” He opened the door wide for Jean-Eric and Daniel to walk in with Chris and Angelique hauling in the crime scene kit behind.

“You’re Mr Horner then?” Daniel asked, they were standing in what looked like a foyer with doors and arches leading off every wall, and a staircase off to the side leading up to the first floor.

“Yes, please call me Christian, I gathered everyone in the living room, I assume we’re all going to be questioned” Christian gulped and put his hands in his pockets, his eyes were wide and he looked only slightly relieved at the police presence in his home.

He led the two detectives through a large wooden arch in the wall opposite the front door into a spacious living area that had one wall almost filled with glass windows giving the inhabitants a near-perfect view of the surrounding forest, the sea and a glimpse of a small part of Honoré. The room was decorated with white walls and dark red-brown waxed wooden floors, in one corner was a large TV sat on a black cabinet with white sofas and armchairs facing it; and in the other corer was a few tall bookcases, and a glass coffee table surrounded by more smaller sofas and armchairs. Occupying the soft furnishings were a dark-haired middle-aged woman who must have been Mrs Horner, and three men would couldn’t have been older than their early 20s. All four of them looked anxious, Mrs Horner even more so when she finally looked up at Daniel and Jean-Eric. “Detectives Vergne and Ricciardo from the police” Christian addressed the room before sitting down next to his wife.

“Is this everyone that’s staying in the house?” Daniel asked, pulling out his navy notebook from the pocket of his white shorts.

“Yes” Christian nodded, “This is my Wife Helena, our sons Pierre and Max and their friend Charles” Christian pointed out everyone in the room in turn; Helena who looked to be roughly the same age as Christian, with dark hair and darker eyes that still held a slight hint of fear. Sat on the other two seater sofa was Pierre, it was hard to tell but he looked the tallest of the three, he had shaggy light brown hair swept to the side and was biting one of his fingernails, next to him was Charles, who’s face was slightly rounder, his hair shorter and much darker, his eyes glancing around the room not knowing what or who to look at for reassurance. And lastly, sat alone on an armchair was Max, his square jaw was clenched tightly with his shoulders hunched and hands knotted in his lap. All of them had a slightly dazed look in their eyes, like a part of them didn’t know why they were there.

“And you were all here at the time of the robbery?” Jean-Eric questioned the room to some confused nods.

“I think so, I mean… we were all outside having breakfast on the porch, Dad asked Mum to get something from the office… and she ran back a few minutes later saying we’d been robbed” Max spoke quietly, still wringing his hands together.

“Did any of you see anything suspicious at all this morning, or even over the past few days?”

“No” Pierre gave a definitive shake of the head.

“Everything seemed perfectly normal” Charles shrugged with a frown and looked down at his shoes.

“I’ll show you to the office, if you’ve got any more questions for the boys you can ask them later” Jean-Eric didn’t protest and simply nodded, when he was their age he had already started his police training, but if he hadn’t he certainly would be scared out of his wits at the thought of potentially dangerous criminals being in his house without knowing. “It’s up on the first floor”

“Have you lived here long Mr Horner?” Daniel asked, his notebook still open in his hand.

“Oh no this is our holiday home, we actually live on the outskirts of London, but we try and make it out here whenever we can during the Summer” Christian turned left when they reached the top of the stairs and walked to the end of one of the hallways where a door was ajar and Jean-Eric could get a glimpse of the carnage inside. Filing cabinets had been recklessly knocked over, just about every drawer in the room had been pulled open, sheets of paper lay strewn around the whole room like scattered confetti. “I haven’t checked to see what’s been stolen, we keep just about everything in here, passports, paperwork from when we bought the house, birth certificates, drivers’ licences, copies of the boys adoption papers…”

“Adoption papers?” Daniel raised an eyebrow as he peered round Jean-Eric to get a better look at the wrecked office.

“Yes, Max and Pierre they’re both adopted. My wife and I couldn’t have children naturally so…”

“You adopted” Jean-Eric nodded, and pulled his notebook back out. “Angelique, Chris!” Almost on demand the two officers appeared carrying their equipment, complete with their white rubber gloves. “The crime scene is yours, take as long as you need. If you don’t mind Mr Horner we’d like to carry on with our questions”

“Very well” Christian frowned and led the way back downstairs, Jean-Eric and Daniel shared a few silent glances but said nothing, not wanting to speculate a loud right that second. They walked back into the living room where everyone was still sat. “I’ll go and make some tea” Christian sighed, leaving the living room with a shake of the head.

“So you’re the one that discovered the wrecked office Mrs Horner?” She nodded quietly. “Did you see or hear anything unusual, or anyone in the office that shouldn’t have been there?” Jean-Eric frowned, tapping the end of his pen against his notebook.

“No… well, the window at the back was open, it’s supposed to be locked shut since you can climb out of it and go onto the balcony, Frederic did that when he was little and broke his arm, so the window’s been locked shut ever since” Jean-Eric and Daniel both looked up from their hastened scribbling at the mention of a third son that was nowhere to be seen.

“Is Frederic back in the UK then?” Daniel asked cautiously.

“No, he is right here!” Helena raised her voice and pointed at the son that had been introduced as Pierre. “I suppose since it took you three weeks to find a murderer you won’t even be able to find out who did this” Helena scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. Jean-Eric could tell that Daniel was trying very hard to hold his nerve when thankfully Christian returned with a tray of mugs and teapots.

“That’s enough Helena, come on let’s go outside, the boys can look after themselves for a few minutes” Mrs Horner more than happily left the living room with her husband, and could be heard saying all manner of things about Honoré Police as she was led into the back garden.

“Sorry about her” Max looked very apologetic as he started pouring out cups of tea. “She used to be in the police herself… which is probably why she hasn’t taken this very well”

“Where did she serve?” Jean-Eric asked.

“The Metropolitan Police, in London” Pierre, Frederic or whatever his name was answered quietly. “She took early retirement about five years ago”

“I served in the MET; I don’t remember a Helena Horner” Daniel furrowed his brow in confusion.

“She served under her maiden name” Max replied. Jean-Eric and Daniel shared a look and shrugged.

“So when did you all arrive on the island?”

“Two weeks ago, but Charles only got here yesterday, we’re all meant to be going back home in a few weeks”

“And did any of you see or hear anything out of the ordinary this morning?”

“Pierre thought he heard an upstairs window being opened” Charles spoke, looking over at his friend for confirmation. He just nodded.

“We were having breakfast on the porch outside, so I didn’t see anything, but I swear I heard it” Jean-Eric frowned as he noted the different accents between the three men, all mainland European in some way. Pierre and Charles definitely sounded French, but Max’s accent was so soft he couldn’t quite place it.

“We will need to take same basic details for our records, date of birth, current address…” Daniel paused when the three men all shifted uncomfortably. Max looked over at his brother, the pair exchanging silent looks.

“We all share a flat in Greenwich, that’s where we go to university, we’re in the same year” Charles tried to break the sudden awkward tension, but to no avail.

“Our parents don’t have my birth certificate, is that going to be a problem?” The slightly scared look in Pierre’s eyes startled Jean-Eric for a minute, thankfully for him Daniel wasn’t as fazed and asked why. “Well… my birth parents, um…” Pierre fell silent and ran both hands through his hair, Max abandoned the tray of tea and went over to stand next to his brother, placing a firm and reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“When Pierre was one his parents took him here on holiday, but they were killed in a boating accident, whoever did it also went to the hotel and destroyed any bit of evidence that his family was even there, so the officer in charge of the case took him back to France and handed him over to the adoption services since they couldn’t find any official documents” Jean-Eric looked over at his partner and pursed his lips together, Daniel’s eyes looked almost wide with shock.

“It’s okay, your home address will be more than enough” Jean-Eric closed his notebook, thanked the men for their time and said that they would get anything else they needed from Mr Horner, and left the three of them alone. Daniel said nothing as he joined his colleague in the hallway and shook his head, gesturing to go up the stairs.

“Man… Poor kid” Daniel spoke in a whisper once they reached the second floor and walked down the hallway to where Chris and Angelique were still looking at the crime scene.

“Ah there you are Sir!” Angelique carefully climbed over a filing cabinet to stand next to her DI. “The door was left ajar but there was no real sign of a break in, that window at the back was open but apart from that…” Angelique just shrugged looking somewhat bemused.

“One of the boys did say that they heard a window being opened, maybe it was the robber?” Daniel mused.

“Yes, but they were having breakfast on the porch below, which has a good view of the front and back garden, I doubt that the burglar would have had more than a few seconds to get inside without being seen” Jean-Eric retorted.

“I don’t know sir, this place has been so badly wrecked it’s hard to tell just what’s been taken, if anything at all” Chris frowned before resuming dusting the windowpane for fingerprints. “This has to have been a professional job”

“Yes but… why rob an office, surely you would have a look in the bedrooms for mobile phones, laptops, watches, jewellery…. It doesn’t make a lot of sense” Jean-Eric sighed and looked around the ransacked room trying to think just what would be so valuable to steal that would be kept in an office, the computer that sat on a desk in the left side of the room looked like it hadn’t even been moved.

“Bank records maybe? It’s a weird way to go about stealing money, but judging by the car that’s parked out front, this place _and_ the fact that they can afford to send both their kids to a London university, they have to be well off” Daniel folded his arms across his chest and frowned. “Can you tell if anything’s missing?”

“I got a list from Mr Horner, we’ve got all the pictures we need, so if you want Angie and me can start looking to see what’s all still here when we’re done dusting for prints”

“Daniel you get the Greenwich address from the boys downstairs, I’ll deal with the parents, you two take as long as you can and come back to the station when you’re done” Jean-Eric happily left Angelique and Christopher to get on with their jobs that he knew they could both do so well, and went back downstairs in the hunt for Mr and Mrs Horner.

He eventually found them in the back garden, sat on two lounge chairs by a reasonably sized hot tub. Mr Horner sprung up from his chair, his face still filled with concern.

“I’m afraid we haven’t found anything out of the ordinary just yet, two of my officers will stay here to make sure nothing’s been taken”

“We’re all supposed to be flying home in a few weeks, will we need to give you our passports?”

“No that won’t be necessary, we might need to come back and ask some more questions, so I’m afraid you will have to stay on the island for the time being. But I will need your home address and dates of birth for our records” Jean-Eric took down the details given to him by Mr Horner on his notepad, and thanked them for their time and met Daniel by the front door after briefly checking to see if Angelique and Chris had found anything (which to everyone’s disappointment they hadn’t).

“This is a weird one” Daniel remarked when they were safely back at the Land Rover. “I suppose we won’t know anything for sure until Chris and Angie get their inventory done” Jean-Eric just hummed and looked up at the end of the villa that faced the sea, the end that contained the office and balcony on the first floor, and the covered porch below.

He went up to the wooden railing and sure enough the dining table had a perfect view of the whole back garden area as well as the front of the house, it would have been mad for a burglar to even attempt to break in as they would have been seen since it was broad daylight. Then Angelique’s point surfaced in Jean-Eric’s mind, why raid an office that the criminal wouldn’t even have known where any of the documents were stored, when there was three or even four bedrooms filled with goods that would have been much easier to steal. “What are you thinking boss?” Daniel had walked over to where Jean-Eric was still stood leaning against the wooden railing of the covered porch. Jean-Eric just shook his head as he walked back to the car, running a hand through his hair.

“Something about this just… doesn’t feel right”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere out there is a universe where poor Pierre is not being screwed over, at the moment this sadly isn't one of them

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/Kudos always appreciated! <3


End file.
